


Copper and Salt

by MagpieWendigo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Butt Sex, Buttsex, Cutting, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Hannigram - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Knife Play, M/M, Mild Gore, Post Fall, Power Exchange, Scar touching, Thinky kinky sex, Touching, breath play, light choking?, lots of blood, really it's just hannibal seeing what will lets him get away with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 06:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWendigo/pseuds/MagpieWendigo
Summary: Of course there would be blood, after so many love notes written in the very same ink on the corpses they left for each other, could it really be any other way?Post-fall, hiding out for the moment in Paris, Hannibal and Will engage in mutually beneficial therapy.





	Copper and Salt

**Author's Note:**

> For @CamilleCailloux 's Hannibal Gore Fest 2019!
> 
> my first attempt at what i feel qualifies as "real" fanfic for me, also my first attempt at smut??? i kept it light and implied because i have no idea what i'm doing... i would love feedback but please be kind!

“The human condition,” Hannibal said, rising from his chair, “is-“

Will interrupted him with a not-so-subtle scoff. “The  _ human _ condition? And what makes you think you are even  _ remotely _ qualified to lecture me on something so far beyond your... ‘scope of experience’,  _ Doctor Lecter _ ?” He stood by the window, staring blindly out through sheer curtains, and so did not see the flash of possessive pride shining in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Come now, Will. I’m just as human as you are.”

Will chuckled darkly but did not reply. 

Hannibal loved when Will was like this. Moody, brooding… feral. “You are still grieving. It’s not unusual to feel some resentment towards your past self who still lives the life you lost.” 

“You know I lost more than that.”

Hannibal moved to stand behind Will, breathing imperceptibly slow, savoring his sweet boy’s scent. Will smelled like a campfire when he was angry, acrid smoke and burning wood. He smelled delicious. Hannibal caught himself licking his lips at the casual but inevitable thought of how Will might taste. “Tell me, Will, what else do you feel you have lost?”

“Oh, I don’t know, time, my sense of self, my… innocence… I could go on all day,” 

“We’re not pressed for time,”

“...Abigail.” There was no reason to hide the disdain in his voice. Hannibal knew Will blamed him for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Madness, sickness, wrongful imprisonment, death and blood. So much blood. Will reached towards the scar on his forehead, an absentminded gesture, just another little habit that Hannibal found so charming. 

“I did what I had to do, Will. I did it for us.” Hannibal rested his hands on Will’s shoulders, mildly but pleasantly surprised that Will did not react- he was more aware of Hannibal’s presence even when lost in thought, and that pleased the doctor greatly. He slowly slid his hands towards Will’s neck. 

When Will felt Hannibal’s hands linger at the fringes of his throat, he knew it was over. Delicate, limber, capable of creation and destruction, chef’s hands, musician’s hands. Surgeon’s hands. Killer’s hands. How could he hate those hands? They toyed with the collar of his shirt, asking for permission to continue. Will’s sigh of acquiescence tapered off as he felt the hands gently squeeze his airway. He let his head fall back onto Hannibal’s shoulder, exposing the full length of his neck. 

As intimately as Hannibal thought he knew his friend (his prey), every day he found there were new things to discover. New depths to explore. He could spend a thousand years inside the mind and body of this creature and never see it all; the thought of it excited him greatly. Hannibal timed Will’s pulse and released his grip. The rest of the sigh escaped, deep, rasping.

“Don’t try to change the subject, Hannibal.” Will coughed, but did not try to move away. He was comforted by Hannibal’s closeness and support. He closed his eyes and managed a fuller breath. 

For years now they had been circling each other, spiraling, their paths curling tighter and tighter in a delicate dance that could end only in love or death. They had both died that day on the cliff, and so here lay before them the logical conclusion, culmination, consecration… consummation. Each man would be lying if they said the idea did not at least intrigue them, but they both knew by now it was more than that. Mutual interest had become a struggle for control had become insatiable need. They were conjoined. 

Evening had drawn her violet brush across the sky and their room was sinking into darkness, only the moon witness to the scene unfolding in the small Parisian apartment. 

“By all means, continue,” Hannibal said, barely more than a whisper. Will’s neck continued to lay bare, an invitation? Will stood on his own but hadn’t moved- Hannibal’s arms were wrapped around his chest. Craving a reminder of ownership, Hannibal let one hand wander to the waist of Will’s pants. There he pulled gently on rich woven cotton, buttons clicking softly against belt as Will’s shirt came untucked. Soon his fingers touched bare skin and the electricity was undeniable. Palm flat against abdomen, Hannibal explored slowly until he found what he was looking for- a slight change in texture, a smooth, thin line he himself had carved years ago. He savored the slightly puckered edge, trailing one finger after another along that ancient smile, grazing each staccato scar left by needle and thread in repair. 

At this intimate touch Will nearly flinched away, despising the eternal reminder of loss that Hannibal had given him. “I thought we were in session,  _ doctor _ .” He couldn’t muster as much disapproval as he’d hoped, each stroke along his scar like flint against steel, sparking a heat deep in his belly. He felt Hannibal smile against the skin of his neck.

“Is this not therapeutic, Will?” 

“For you, maybe.” A half-truth, though. Being held and caressed like this made him feel… complete. A part of him recognized it was something he had been wanting, needing, since the day they lost Abigail. Then shattered, yes, he had dared to come together; he had also suffered greatly, remaining an incomplete vessel. But here, now, every time Hannibal touched his skin, his cracks were being filled with gold. It wasn't quite like healing, but it was rebuilding, feeding a starving animal that had lain captured and dying in the cage of his heart for years. Fire in his belly spread across his body and he ached, completely, to be consumed completely. He arched his back, leaning into Hannibal, pressing his abdomen against the gently caressing hand. 

Sweet boy, willing Will, always so eager to please. It delighted Hannibal every time he drew some subconscious longing to the surface and Will gave in. Nothing tasted better than awakening, not even fear. He turned his face against the skin of Will’s neck, now beginning to bead with sweat. He pressed his lips to flesh in an open-mouthed kiss, and explored with his tongue, allowing himself to get lost in the euphoria of a craving satisfied. His prey tasted divine. He ran his mouth down to the muscle between neck and shoulder, felt it tense, rested his teeth there. Relished in the anticipation. Will twitched impatiently, involuntary. Hannibal applied pressure slowly, softly, at first. He inhaled every emotion, tasting excitement, resentment, bittersweet denial and desire. The gasp of unexpected pleasure became a moan thick and heavy with lust, and then, as his teeth broke skin, the sharp edge of pain. 

Will jerked away, but not before Hannibal got his tongue into the wound. "What the fuck, Hannibal? Did you just  _ bite  _ me?" He brought a hand to his neck and looked at the blood he found there with disgust and unmasked wonder. That’s not where he had expected things to go. And yet, somehow, a part of him liked it, wanted more. He could see in Hannibal’s eyes that part of him reflected, and hated himself for getting lost so easily. Watching Hannibal smirk with blood on his lips, Will’s blood, stained and savoured and swallowed, embarrassment burned as much as want within him then, torn between should and could. Hannibal stood half in shadow, overcome with that asinine expression of aloof amusement that sometimes revealed itself when he thought he had the upper hand. 

With his back to the window Will was little more than a silhouette, a still life coiled with potential energy. Hannibal was too high on self-congratulation to notice this small but very important detail.

Suddenly Will sprang forward, catching Hannibal off guard and knocking him to the floor. Their bodies landed with a satisfying thud, Will quickly capturing Hannibal's hands, holding them tightly out of the way. He straddled Hannibal's chest, his other hand gripping a fistful of hair to keep the doctor’s head pinned to the floor. The smug grin on Hannibal's face only grew bigger, as if all this was going exactly to plan, revealing teeth pink with blood. Will wrenched Hannibal's head to the side, and dipped in for a mouthful of his own. He gnawed fiercely, teeth coming together with all the force of his built up rage and grief. He bit down over and over, ripping open Hannibal's shirt, leaving his mark on tender skin knowing it would scar. Will's mouth filled with blood, spilling down his chin, smearing across his cheeks. Hannibal grew hard with every stinging wound, so overcome with joy that he began to laugh. Hands now free, he thrust a fist into Will's hair and pulled sharply, wanting a look at his precious boy's face. Will's eyes glowed with fire, face covered in crimson, panting from adrenaline and hate and... ah, there it was: love. 

They stayed like that for a moment, eyes locked, exchanging some unspoken agreement, before Will was upended, back on the floor, Hannibal now on top. Hannibal took his time removing his shirt before turning his attention to Will. He ran a hand down his beloved's face, a thumb across those bloody lips. The ache that for years had grown in his heart now settled in his cock, hard and pulsing with need. Hannibal shifted his weight, using the opportunity to press his hips into Will, so pleased with the echoing hardness he found there. Feeling Hannibal's erection grind briefly against his own, Will knew then he was fully exposed, nothing left to hide. He had considered fighting back, and maybe he still would, but this was the dance of love that they had been falling towards. Of course there would be blood, after so many love notes written in the very same ink on the corpses they left for each other, could it really be any other way? 

The doctor produced a knife, something from his pocket, perhaps, and small- not enough to do any real damage, Will thought. He was powerless underneath Hannibal, paralyzed by fascination and fear, held captive by anticipation of the unknown. He watched Hannibal take the knife and make several cuts on both of them. The little blade was so sharp Will barely felt it cut through his flesh. He didn't know what was happening but it felt ritualistic, sacred, and to interrupt would be a sin far graver than any he had already committed. Hannibal pressed his bleeding palm to the cut over Will's heart. Will, overwhelmed but lucid, wordlessly did the same. 

"We are bonded now," Hannibal said. 

'"Conjoined."

At this, Hannibal smiled. A genuine smile, one of pure pleasure, no lurking hubris or greed. Will pulled their faces together, lips embracing, tongues reaching for each other through the florid veil. They pawed furiously at each other, barely coming up for air, fussing with belts and buttons, desperate for contact. The floodgates were open now and through them rushed a river of red, unstoppable.

On the bed at last, they fought to find purchase. Even in the blinding mists of lust they wrestled for control, slick with blood and sweat, each man trying to gain the upper hand. 

“Why… is everything… a fucking...  _ game _ … with you?” Will panted between kisses. He wanted to hate that even now this felt like a carefully choreographed sequence of movements, Hannibal ever the prescient predator, always, always in control. He wanted to hate it, but he couldn’t. There was something so irresistible about not having to worry, not having to  _ think _ , when he was with Hannibal. 

The doctor lapped greedily at the blood around Will’s mouth. “You’re fun to play with,” he replied, his voice deep, hungry. “It’s as simple as that.” He swiped a few fingers through the blood on Will’s chest and paused, turning his hand, admiring the way it dripped and glittered in the moonlight, like ink. He remembered the night of his beloved’s Becoming, the happiest night of his life. He opened his eyes in the present to find Will had ceased struggling, now studying him carefully. Hannibal couldn’t read his expression in the dark. The smells in the room had changed, at first charged with anger, there were now warm amber notes of desire, the feral scent of blood and lust, sharp, metallic, primordial. 

Taking advantage of the younger man’s stillness, Hannibal slid his bloody fingers across Will’s hole, applying gentle, exploratory pressure. Hitched breath and twitching cock beneath him only encouraged further teasing. Will was thoroughly under his spell. He relished in the wave of happiness that always washed over him when he was in complete control. First one finger, then two, coaxing the muscles there to relax, eliciting gasps of newly discovered pleasure from his beloved. Hannibal took his time, punctuating bliss with fresh bites along the insides of Will’s thighs. 

Tangled among the sheets, Will felt around blindly, searching for something to hold on to, to make him feel grounded. His bloody hands left red velvet smears on the white linens. He tried reaching for Hannibal’s head again but the doctor pulled away, focused on the  _ task at hand _ . He whimpered, feeling overstimulated. Desperate. Hungry. The need for release demanded his immediate attention. Hoping he would be allowed at least temporary relief, Will moved to wrap a hand around his cock, but Hannibal quickly and silently slapped it away. As Hannibal finally withdrew his fingers, an emptiness filled Will so completely that the only thing he could do was sob. 

Hannibal regarded the bloody man on the sheets with greedy eyes. One palm holding down Will’s chest, one palm running across his own, he gathered their blood and sighed with satisfaction as he slicked his cock with a few careful, measured pumps. Will lay there, heart racing, crying, scared but starving, knowing what was to come next. He held his breath to keep from speaking out, knowing the doctor would stop the second he asked. He didn’t want him to. Stop. 

Much in the way that the final piece of a jigsaw fits perfectly into place, so did Hannibal slide into Will, the fit so achingly perfect that neither of them could keep from crying out. This, this was everything that Hannibal had ever wanted. For Will, it was everything he’d never known he’d needed. Conjoined now, in every sense of the word, the world around them ceased to exist. Nothing remained but for them to feast on one another. Eat of my flesh, and drink of my blood. They tasted each other’s pleasure, copper and salt, as Hannibal surrendered more and more with every thrust. His beloved Will, so beautifully taking every inch of his love, physical and metaphysical, he would do anything for this man. Will, sensing the subtle change in Hannibal’s posture, began to buck his hips into Hannibal, emboldened by the sudden shift in control. Fingers dug into his thighs, his lover- yes,  _ his _ lover, Will turned the phrase over in his mind- gripped impossibly hard, delirious with passion. 

Seeing Hannibal lose his composure, knowing he was the one driving his own madness into the once impenetrable mind of Dr. Lecter, Will was all at once overwhelmed and felt the rush of heat blossom from his core in a wave of euphoric bliss. Hannibal joined Will over the edge once more, a different cliff this time, but falling together still, ribboned tails on the same kite caught in the wind. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos give me life, please let me know if you enjoyed me outing myself for having a blood kink!


End file.
